


Desecration

by Beliar, Vearth



Series: Closer [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mates, Stiles is Derek's mate, and everything starts out absolutely not as it was supposed to, because trying to take things is even better when you know others want them as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beliar/pseuds/Beliar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vearth/pseuds/Vearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Stiles threw himself to his knees before him and begged for the life of another person Peter had been thinking about him and all the other things he could beg for. It's just a small additional incentive that he knows Derek had wanted him, might even have found his mate in him. His nephew was just too slow to decide if he could risk getting close to someone again and Peter was nobody who wasted an opportunity when it arose.<br/>He knows he is provoking a catastrophe and he loves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yes or no?

**Author's Note:**

> AU → Peter didn't get killed, because Derek didn't turn on him for killing his sister. Peter could convince him that he was out of his mind when doing it and not capable of rational thought. Therefore Peter stayed the alpha of the pack, leading it now, having Derek integrated in it.
> 
> This series will have Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski as a topic and deal with them being mates and trying to solve the situation this first part of the series gets them into.  
> This can be read as a standalone story.
> 
> My co-author will be Vearth. We will take turns on writing the parts to this story. This part was written by me, the next one will be written by Vearth.
> 
> Spoilers: Things Vearth and I have in common (amongst other things): We like Sterek and happy endings.

Stiles couldn't move. At least not in a way that was helpful even in the slightest. He swallowed hard and tried to move anyway, just to obtain physical proof that it was, in fact, a lost cause.  
Long, strong fingers were curled firmly around his biceps on both sides. He could feel every single digit pressing against him, being almost painful even through three layers of clothing, one of those his jacket.

His back was pressed flush against a wall. The cold stone of it was a harsh contrast to the warmth emanating from the body directly in front of him, only inches away from his own. Perhaps he could have bowed his back to get away from the wall a little, but that would have meant to get closer to the person in front of him and he wasn't yet sure what he would appreciate more.

“Don't move I said.” Every word was stressed, drawn out and filled with utter demand for obedience. There was no room for dissent, no room for questions left by this order.

At least in theory.

Stiles always had a hard time obeying to others, sometimes even if he really tried.  
Hearing the danger thick in the other man's voice, seeing the menacing spark in his eyes and feeling the tight grasp of the werewolf's hands everybody else might have decided it wasn't a good idea to even try to do anything at all that would potentially displease him. Stiles however sure wasn't everybody.

“I wasn't... I just wanted to... you know, blood circulation...” Stiles pulled a face, shook his head and tried to shrug, but didn't manage with Peter's hands still holding his arms. Instead the attempt triggered a low and dark growl from the alpha, his eyes glistening red for a moment. Stiles breath hitched, while paralysis took hold of his body. His eyes widened slightly while he kept them fixed on the other man's face.

Peter's eyes darkened while he bowed his head forward a little, his fingers pressing even harder against Stiles' arms, as he moved closer just a little. It would have been imperceptible if he hadn't been that close already.  
Stiles thought he could actually feel the other man's body almost touching his own now.

“I like that... blood circulation thing... it makes everything easier and more fun.” The teenager's voice broke a little and got higher while he talked.

It wasn't even terror he felt, although he was pretty sure it should have been. He didn't want to back down and just give in, even if he knew, ultimately he was in no position to get the upper hand in this.  
He naturally was afraid and unsure of what would happen. He couldn't predict anything with the other man what made this situation only more complicated. But he was no coward. In a way it was even easier to know beforehand that there was no chance of winning or taking over the wheel.

“Shut up, Stiles.” Peter had a way of managing to sound light and playful while being intimidating in the same moment. And it wasn't their stance, wasn't the cold wall behind him or his inability to move. It was only that voice. Maybe the werewolf could have made him stop any movement just with using this tone on him.  
At least for a second, before he forgot he didn't want to move anymore.

There was a moment in which none of them moved and Stiles even forgot he needs to breath.  
Peter was the one who started moving again, slowly, just like the dangerous predator he was. His eyes slit from Stiles' face down to his throat while he leaned in closer and now he was pressing up against him.  
Slowly Stiles could feel their bodies beginning to touch from his legs to their chests, one of the werewolf's legs sliding in between his own, his hands still a constant presence on the teenager's arms.

Stiles swallowed hard and put his head back against the wall, fixating a point over the werewolf's shoulder, staring into the night. His heart was racing and he knew the other man could hear it, but it wasn't as if he could change that. He clenched his hands to fists, pressing them against the cold stone behind him.

Peter was moving his head in and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, not sure if he should expect to be killed, bitten or something else entirely. Something else entirely was definitely the most desirable option right now.  
It sure wasn't right to find this kind of interesting, was it? He should be scared and fear the worst, but truth was, that there was more than a small part very occupied by thinking about what might happen and being curious about it. Not every option he could think of was bad, because obviously he couldn't just lose hope that this wouldn't be the end of his – much too short – life.

The werewolf's mouth came nearer until he could feel his breath hot against the skin on his neck. “You can have so many things from me, you know? And I don't ask much in return.”  
There was something in these words that made his interest peak. Peter had a way of laying so much emotion and hidden meaning into the things he said it was outright fascinating.

“I don't think that is entirely true, I mean you're pretty demandi –“ The answer got cut off, not by words but a gesture. Peter lifted his head to look at him again.  
Stiles couldn't see the movement with his eyes still closed, but he could feel it. Every single motion, no matter how small, every little shift – he could feel it, with the other man plastered against him. It shouldn't have been thrilling and it shouldn't have been arousing.  
It was though and he wasn't yet sure if it was disturbing him or not.  
The imminent danger of the situation, the intimacy of the nonexistent distance between them, the silent promise of giving so many things if he was willing to take them and give something back, it all added up to anticipation of something that might not be that bad.

Stiles opened his eyes again, staring at Peter, his mouth still hanging open because he hadn't closed it again after he had been interrupted while talking. There was something in the werewolf's eyes he hadn't noticed before. Maybe it hadn't been there or he just didn't have the right state of mind to actually get it.  
He got looked at like the alpha wanted to own him and Stiles couldn't find it in him to hate it. He wasn't one to not challenge others, to obey without question or even let himself get ordered around and still he couldn't even so much as not like that look.  
The younger man turned his head a little and was ready to say something about that he was not for dinner tonight, when Peter beat him to it.

“You want to find out how demanding I am?” The werewolf grinned, all teeth and clearly pleased with the situation. He was finally getting to the point and he saw that Stiles might be on his best way to see what that point was.

The alpha leaned in again, this time getting his mouth closer to Stiles' lips. Stiles tensed and now he really didn't dare to move anymore. The weight of the older man pressed his whole body hard against the wall, the entire situation causing him to shiver slightly. It was a strange feeling of being trapped and completely at the mercy of another person, yet not willing to surrender and actually enjoying it. Maybe he was even enjoying it too much, because he was sure, the way they were standing, Peter could actually feel that particular fact by now.  
He was nervous and of course he knew what one could anticipate after this gesture. He was pretty sure he knew what he was anticipating after this gesture. The thing was just, that he couldn't believe it was happening. Now. In real life. To him.

“You think you can meet my demands?” The words were whispered against Stiles' lips and while he still was trying to figure out what was happening or how to respond to this in an appropriate manner the werewolf closed the last tiny bit of distance between them and their lips met.  
It wasn't slow, nice or careful. It was hard and demanding, as if to underline the words that just had been said. Stiles could feel his head being pressed against the wall, a hand coming up to his cheek to hold him. Peter's fingers pressed hard against his skin, almost causing pain and leaving him no room to move.

It felt like they spent hours like that, Peter pushing his tongue into Stiles' mouth, causing the other man to moan, still holding him as good as he could manage. Stiles hadn't even tried to struggle though, being completely lost in their kiss.  
When he finally pulled back they were both panting. Still the alpha managed to sound as dominant and sure of himself as before. “Come with me.”  
There was no question, it was a simple order, but still Stiles knew this was his chance to bail out. His last chance maybe. He didn't want to.

“Okay. Yes. Yes!” He sounded excited and eager and Peter loved it. A smile spread on his face, something mischievous in it as well as looking utterly pleased. He nodded before he let go of Stiles, backing away from him, while curling his fingers into the fabric of his jacket. He tugged hard enough that Stiles nearly stumbled before he could follow.


	2. My house, my rules.

Stiles didn't think about where they were headed until Peter practically shoved him into his car and started driving towards the old house of the Hale family. That was his home again after he left hospital and the teenager knew that. Knowing and realizing weren't always one and the same with him though.  
In the quiet that spread between them during the ride, however, realization sank in and it made him a little nervous thinking about the old, burnt house that lay mostly in ruins.

He started fidgeting his legs and squirming in his seat after a while, unable to sit still with all the excitement and anticipation that filled him. His thoughts were racing around all the possible things that could be coming once they reached their destination. During that he found himself in a strange pull between wanting this drive to be over immediately because he was anxious and wanting it to last longer at the same time because he was nervous about what would happen.

The problem with that was that he couldn't see through the other man, couldn't predict his actions, and somehow he was pretty sure that would never change. Maybe he didn't even want it to change. Maybe he enjoyed it like it was and maybe that line of thought was enough to irritate him.

Somewhere along the road, while Stiles was talking about the forest they passed and about some random adventures he had in them, Peter suddenly stretched out his hand and pressed it against his chest to push him back into his seat effortlessly.  
The younger man stilled instantly, looked down slowly and over to the werewolf who focused on the road while telling him not to fidget anymore if he wanted to stay in the car. Stiles tried, but it took only two minutes until he was doing it again. Luckily it only took three minutes and one growled order to stop it until they arrived at their destination.

Anticipation turned to outright nervousness once he realized this all was real and he was about to follow the alpha into his house to do something he had never done before. Not that Stiles hadn't had enough fantasies about sex and theoretical knowledge, but what was that worth? It sure wouldn't be like he had always pictured it. Were there even beds in this place? Especially with someone like Peter, who clearly knew what he was expecting out of this. 

Peter, since he wasn't Stiles, had planned this through and knew exactly why he had decided to do this with him. He was just perfect.  
It didn't need experience. Sometimes that was even hampering. The younger man's attitude, the resistance, his courage, his eagerness and not to forget his looks all added up to exactly what the werewolf wanted and needed to have.  
There were so many things he could show him and he had a feeling Stiles would want to see them, would listen and enjoy it just as much as him. He wanted them to be perfect together and he believed that they could be, given the right amount of time and devotion.

“Follow me.” The older man's voice reached the other over the hood of the car, pulling him away from his thoughts and back into reality. Stiles found himself obeying in an instant and without thinking, his legs moved before he could even nod in acceptance. “Right. Going inside. Good plan.”

Stiles stumbled over his own feet and held his hand out to steady himself on the car. Peter, who hadn't fully turned around yet, focused immediately on the point where the other man's hand met with his car, disapproval clear in his eyes.  
Stiles caught it, mostly because Peter didn't even try to hide it, and pulled his hand away quickly, laughing a little awkwardly. “Nothing happened.” He raised his hands, palms pointing towards the other man. “Not doing that again, right?”

“No. You're not.” There was a silent threat in his words, mainly carried through the way he pronounced and stressed the words, leaving a small pause after saying no. There was no other option, no other reality than the one that Peter had just drawn out and if anything would disturb it, there would be consequences. He managed to lay all that in this simple statement.

The werewolf turned, walking towards the house, while Stiles suddenly realized he had to follow. He hurried to keep up and get behind him again. His eyes flew over the old structure's features in a hurry, before they returned to the man that brought him here.

Peter was insanely attractive. Maybe that was a family trait. At least among the two survivors he had met it definitely was.  
The fact that he was outright staring, his mouth hanging open and lost in thoughts about the things he saw, got caught when the werewolf looked over his shoulder. A grin crawled up onto Peter's face slowly, while he listened to the fast beat of Stiles' heart.  
The expression on his face looked dangerous and it caused the teenager not only to blush, but to feel arousal filling him again in just an instant. It should have been strange how little it took the werewolf to cause this. The tone of his voice, the dark look in his eyes, or the slightest gesture, heavy with meaning, and Stiles was lost with desire crawling up and take over his thoughts.

The door was unlocked, as it always seemed to be. There was nothing to steal here and everybody who tried would sure regret it anyway. Peter didn't hesitate to go in and as nervous and jittery as Stiles was, he didn't either.  
He didn't even think about hesitation yet, even if he was overwhelmed by the situation.

Only two steps later he ran straight into Peter, letting out a huff of air, stumbling a step back and apologizing quickly. He rubbed his neck while looking irritatedly for a reason this had happened. The werewolf hadn't turned around, he just had stopped and stared into the darkness through a door next to the stairs.

Peter huffed amused and turned shortly to look at Stiles who just looked even more irritated by that reaction. He frowned and shook his head, getting nothing in return that would have explained him what was going on.  
His irritation stayed, because he wasn't the one who could see or hear Derek, who lingered in the shadows behind the door, watching them in silence as they passed. And he couldn't basically feel the disapproval that the other werewolf seemed to be filled up with either.

“Come. We are going upstairs.” Peter sounded sure and commanding, like a lot of times before, but the amusement he felt about his nephew watching them in silent fuming found it's way into his words. He said them pointedly, sharp and loud, to give them even more weight then they had already.  
“Don't disturb us.” The words were directed to the darkness even if Stiles needed another second before realization dawned and he finally got there had to have been someone. Someone who could only be Derek, as he very well knew.

Peter started walking again, his steps determined and sure and Stiles followed after a moment's hesitation. He was excited out of his mind and filled with anticipation. His steps were hastily and erratic.

At the top of the stairs Peter turned left, grabbed at Stiles' jacket and dragged him along into a small room.

Stiles eyed the room into which he had literally been thrown after stumbling two steps into it. Peter's hands were gone from his jacket and the teenager could hear the loud crack of the door behind him as it closed.  
Everywhere were visible traces of the fire that had raged here, even on the only part of furniture, but all in all it didn't look as bad as he had thought it might. It took Stiles a moment to process that this only part of furniture left in the room was a table.  
Not even a particular comfy one – not that he normally rated tables by how comfy they were or could actually tell that from looking at them. He just couldn't imagine it to be. It was old and dark, little burnt spots where fire tried to consume it, but still looking a lot better than most of the things in this house. His breath hitched before he turned around again.  
“Here?” His voice was filled with the insecurity he suddenly felt about not knowing what to do or think.

“Yes, here.” Peter pushed the door closed all the way, startling the other with the loud bang it caused.

Stiles still stood with his back to the alpha, letting his eyes roam the place, again and again falling back to the table, while trying to breath as calmly as possible. Peter heard the little irregularities in his breathing and how his heart raced and he concentrated on the little jump it made as he suddenly grabbed the teenager's jacket and pulled hard at it.  
Stiles let out a surprised sound as he felt his clothing slip from his arms and whirled around as soon as it was gone. He wasn't opposed to the fact that he had taken it, he wasn't even opposed to the fact that Peter just let it slip through his fingers and fall to the ground, but he was pretty sure he just had lost around five years of his life due to that jump scare.  
“Are you made of crazy? You can't just sneak up on me. Why do you werewolves always have to do that? Is it a thing? Because I absolutely think it is a th –”

“Stiles.” Peter used a tone of voice that made the teenager instantly feel like he had said something silly – what was probably true. It was dominant and like you'd sound if you were about to instruct someone in something. “You knew I was in this room. How can you startle from that?”  
The werewolf cocked his head a little and shook it slowly, raising his eyebrows just a fraction. Stiles felt like he should have been offended by that gesture, but he wasn't. It had something fond to it that was outright irritating.

“You see...”, Stiles began before huffing out a nervous laugh. The alpha took one of his hands up and pressed it flat to his chest. Peter's fingers were spread wide, suddenly curling fast into the fabric of the shirt, holding him, while simultaneously pushing him back and up against the wall behind him, using more force than would have been necessary.  
Stiles let out a huff of air and gasped as he couldn't breathe for the fraction of a second. “Careful, I don't come with warranty.”, he swallowed hard before continuing, “Not returnable. I mean exchangeable. Returning might actually work.”

“I might have said that before, but... shut up, Stiles.” Peter smiled softly, yet the teenager felt himself being threatened enough to shut up immediately and nod frantically. He was nervous and there was just no point in hiding it. He couldn't do that with normal human beings, how should he have done it with a werewolf?  
“Just for a moment.”, Peter still smiled, but his eyes wandered over Stiles while his hand shifted slightly on his chest, his fingers still curled up in his clothing. He stopped moving his eyes when he had reached his lips. “As I suppose you can't hold back talking for long anyway.”

“I can be quiet!” Stiles blurted out in the worst defense mankind ever had come across. His eyes widened a little and his shoulders sagged down a fraction when he sighed about his own behavior.

Peter just smiled in triumph. He enjoyed this a lot and he wasn't ashamed of admitting to that. “It's okay, Stiles. Because, in general, I really dont want you to be quiet.” Peter leaned in closer. Stiles could feel his weight shift on the hand that still was pressed to his chest, his knuckles almost uncomfortably against it. His second arm came up and he braced himself with his forearm against the wall next to Stiles' head.  
Staring at him was all Stiles could do at the moment, while Peter enjoyed the frantic pace his heartbeat had become. There was so much excitement inside the teenager, the werewolf could almost taste it in what little air was left between them. But besides the nervousness and the excitement there was also something else he could almost taste on his tongue. Stiles was aroused, was thrilled by the situation.  
“I want to hear you. Make noises.” Peter grinned a slow and predatory smile that made Stiles breath hitch. “A lot of them.”

Stiles expected many things right now and he wanted a lot of things. The anticipation was almost killing him. But suddenly Peter was gone, leaning back and taking both his arms away from him, leaving Stiles almost shivering at the loss. He let out a long, silent sigh, watching the werewolf before him, trying and failing to calm down.  
Peter didn't even try to hide the smile on his face that was caused by the delight over Stiles' reactions. “You have no idea how perfect this is.”  
Stiles didn't know what to respond to that. What could one even respond to that when the other person sounded as earnest as Peter just did? He meant it. He really meant it and that was something Stiles was trying to fully grasp in that moment.  
But knowing Stiles one also had to know that not knowing how to respond hardly ever held him from responding anyway. He gaped for a moment, clearly at a loss of words, before he started – still at a loss of words. “I... me? What? Perfect? I haven't done anything. I mean I can do anything. I mean something. Something. Definitely someth –”  
“Stiles. Just take it, believe it and shut up.”

Stiles didn't have much time to be disappointed over Peter's sudden retreat that had preluded the exchange of words. The werewolf's fingers closed hard around both his wrists and Stiles didn't resist when they were both brought up and put over his head.  
Stiles didn't move on his own, let the other just take over for a moment, unsure where the trust came from that was necessary to do so. He concentrated on breathing and not passing out from excitement and anticipation – he was pretty it was possible that you could.  
Fingers slipped over his skin and pressed his hands to the wall with just enough force not to be too much. It was cold and a bit damp, once again building a harsh contrast to the warmth of the other body and Stiles squirmed shortly, trying to move his hands without effort.  
The younger man swallowed hard as he felt one of the two hands come down along his arm again. Peter was pressing hard against both his wrists and hadn't been overly gentle so far, but now he was barely touching him, his fingertips moving along and on down his side above his clothes and it nearly killed him. He wanted to be touched more than this.

Stiles gasped as that gentle touch transformed into a hard grip, fingers suddenly clutching tight around his hip, just to move on beneath his shirt and onto his back a moment later. It wasn't tentative anymore. Peter's whole hand pressed up hot against his skin, seeking as much contact as possible through this gesture, forming a firm pressure against him. Stiles arched forward to make room between himself and the wall, but it only resulted in Peter's hand brushing over his skin hastily, landing on his stomach and pressing him back hard.  
Stiles gasped out, irritated and thrilled at this result in equal amounts. He wasn't sure how it got him hard that Peter was just staring at him and touching him only with his hands – on places that he didn't count as particularly erogenous zones on top of that. Then again he was pretty sure Peter's voice, the right choice of words and the right tone would have been able to do the trick just as well.

“I'll let go of your hands now. Can you keep them up on your own?” Peter's voice was a soft whisper. He was so close and Stiles wanted to touch him, had tried by wiggling his fingers and trying to reach the other man's hand without effort. He wasn't sure if it was encouragement that he should have taken out of this question now or doubt that he would be able to meet this demand. He doubted it himself, if he was completely honest with himself.  
The teenager licked his lips slowly, flicking his tongue like he often did. Peter's eyes followed the movement intrigued, grinning at the hesitation to answer. Stiles was trying to figure out what this meant as fast as he could, but pressure was never good on his bad ability to focus. So his problem was, that he couldn't figure out what this would mean. Would anything happen? Was that a question or an actual demand? Was it exciting and did he want to find out? Stiles nodded fast. “Yes. Yes, I can do that. No problem doing that. At all.”

Peter shook his head, smiling in a fond way that seemed new to Stiles. It wasn't uncharacteristic, but it might have been the first time that the teenager thought that smile didn't have something dangerous hidden in it – even if this something was only hidden subtext or dearly appreciated, good kind of danger.  
“So. Don't move your hands down.” Peter's fingers were gone from Stiles' wrist after this, his hand coming down quickly, not even bothering to wander across his skin. He felt the rim of his shirt being lifted as the werewolf started to take it off.  
Stiles got nervous about the fact that he was going to be the first one getting partially undressed while Peter even still was wearing everything he had worn before, including his mantle. It wasn't that he was overly self-conscious – it was just new. And a bit unjust. However, it was no bad kind of nervousness. Maybe it was what people in show business called stage anxiety. Performance anxiety. Nevertheless, he wanted it to happen and as strange it was that Peter was still dressed as exciting was it.

Despite him not saying anything or moving at all, Peter stopped halfway up his chest and looked up into his eyes. The werewolf could feel the nervousness, the excitement emanating from him as clear as if he would have felt it himself and he needed to know the nature of this feelings before he could decide what to do. He let his fingers brush over skin, not moving the shirt up any more as he did so.  
Stiles shivered and swallowed hard, just looking back, asking himself what Peter was waiting for, when he suddenly smiled and nodded his head.

Peter pulled Stiles shirt up all the way and over his arms quickly, discarding it with just as much care as he had given his jacket. Stiles didn't find it in him to care about that right now, though. As soon as his shirt was gone Peter's lips were back on his and his hands were moving down his sides, stopping at his hips, grabbing hard and pressing him against the wall once more. He hadn't even realized there had still been space that allowed him to be pushed back. The wooden structure pressed against his back, while Peter pressed against him and he shuddered beneath him.

When Stiles had said he would keep his arms up he had really thought it couldn't be that hard. Now his hands started to tingle during the minutes Peter spent occupied kissing him, biting at his lip and pushing his tongue inside, his fingers moving slightly on his hip, but his hands never letting go, keeping him firmly in place. It was incredible. Not that Stiles had anything he could compare this to. It was maybe a little sad to admit that this was the first time he really kissed anyone, but this definitely counted amongst the things he wasn't sad about right now.

As soon as the werewolf switched his activity to planting heavy kisses along his jaw and down to his neck Stiles seemed eager to prove just how much he could talk. He moaned and sighed, mixing in other noises of content and words in between that echoed in Peter's ears. The werewolf was sure the walls of this room wouldn't be able to contain the amount of noise that he would make Stiles produce later and he loved it. He especially loved that this was his reaction to just being kissed. Everything the werewolf did triggered a reaction, a whispered oh god, encouragement or a silent do that again, please. And he did that again, since Stiles asked so nicely and moaned so deliciously when he did.

Stiles hands had gotten heavy and tired during the minutes they were held up while Peter made every effort to drive him crazy with his mouth and hands alone. He was lost in the feeling of Peter's teeth, tongue and lips caressing his skin, all promises and reassurances he could keep them up forgotten in this moment.  
The werewolf could actually feel the movement, the little shift in Stiles' position, before he could feel arms landing on his shoulders, hands on the thick fabric of the mantle lying on his back.

“Stiles.” Peter had stopped kissing him, his hands suddenly still on the other man's hips, but he hadn't moved away. Stiles couldn't say that he wasn't used to hearing his name uttered admonishingly and sharp like this, but it still made him still as well, a warm rush of nervousness filling his system in a quick sweep. His eyes widened a little while his brain caught up with providing possible reasons for this happening. He could hear his own erratic, excited breath in the silence that filled the air between them.  
“Your hands.” Right. His hands would be one of those possible reasons. Peter sounded almost playful, his breath tickling the skin on the other man's neck lightly, his eyes watching as Stiles swallowed thickly. “Oh, crap. Sorry. I didn't mean to...”

Stiles got his arms back up as fast as he could, resting them lightly against the wall.  
“Can't I trust you to make it? To not touch me until I tell you?” Peter's voice was dark, not threatening, but with the hint of something Stiles couldn't exactly grasp. It was the other's enjoyment over the situation, the outright excitement he felt that flowed into his voice. It wasn't just what they were doing or about to do, but the possibility of failure and maybe repercussion. He wanted repercussions and he had a feeling no matter how frantically Stiles nodded and told him he would, there still could be. They would be having so much fun.

Stiles sighed in relief, tension he hadn't realized was there draining from his body, as he felt Peter's lips on his neck again. Darting his tongue out he slowly licked down to his throat, nudging his head back by pushing at his chin. Stiles swallowed hard, looking up at the ceiling above, excitement flooding him in waves. Peter licked up his whole throat, drawing out a long and soft moan. Stiles closed his eyes, pushing his head back even further, lost in the feeling, when Peter's mouth landed on a spot low and near his neck. The werewolf started to alternate between sucking, licking and kissing, making Stiles' breath hitch every time he did.  
It was a thing of beauty to listen to the teenager's heartbeat, his breathing and to smell his arousal and excitement. Peter was completely lost in the sensation all of this caused when he placed his teeth on the skin beneath him and bit down lightly. A moan transformed into a loud gasp as Stiles took down his arms once more, clutching his fingers into Peter's hair.

The werewolf stilled once more. Stiles blinked his eyes open, his heartbeat quickening even more. It took him only a second to realize where his hands were. He let go and pulled them back up in a hectic motion that lacked gracefulness.  
A low growl escaped Peter's lips while his eyes darkened. Stiles stop breathing for an instant, thinking about how wrong it was to find this thrilling. He felt his blood run cold, anticipating what would happen now after the other had produced a tone that couldn't have been coming from a human. “Obviously, you aren't capable of doing what I wanted you to do.” Stiles shuddered. He shuddered from the other man's voice alone and suddenly Peter was gone. His hands, his mouth, his body, his warmth. All gone.

Stiles suddenly felt cold. Slowly letting his arms sink again he followed Peter with his eyes. The werewolf walked towards the table with collected, calculated calm as if they hadn't been making out for minutes just now. He seemed just so in control – what probably only was the general state he seemed to be in, to be fair. The only thing that actually gave away that he wasn't oblivious to everything was that his pants obviously weren't made to hide his erection.  
Not that Stiles spent too much time looking at that particular area. A bit embarrassed about the fact that his eyes even had been lingering there he looked back at the table. It had been long enough, though, for Peter to catch him doing it. The werewolf wasn't easy to embarrass, especially not with things like that, but he dearly appreciated how Stiles' cheeks changed color just a bit – it was nearly imperceptible.

A slow smile spread on Peter's face, while he got out of his mantle and folded it, putting it down onto the table slowly. He acted as if he had all the time in this world, as if he wasn't dying to touch the other again, and Stiles wanted to scream in frustration about that and about the fact that he didn't say anything. “I didn't think it was that bad, was it? The hands... I mean, I can try again? Once more?”

“That won't be necessary.” Peter only smirked, his expression changing to amused while he bend down to take something up from the ground next to the table. Stiles watched in fascination how his shirt tightened over his back, wishing he would just come back and not leave him hanging like this. Of all the things that had been done to him, all the things that left him clueless, this must have been the worst so far. He was clueless and in dire need of being touched.  
“What do you mean not necessa... oh.” Stiles eyes widened, his mouth hanging open in a rather unflattering display of irritation. “What exactly are you planning to do?” He outright stared at the thick rope Peter was holding and wrapping around his own hands playfully while walking back towards the teenager. Peter's muscles clenched as he tugged the rope around his own wrist as if to test it. “Because I'm almost a hundred percent positive of the fact that you can't keep my arms up with that.” Stiles swallowed thickly. Peter closed his eyes for a moment, listening in on all the little signs Stiles body gave away about his current state. Arousal always had been almost effortlessly perceivable for him, when it wasn't just a shallow, sudden feeling that was gone as fast as it came. Every strong emotion always was for him. Anger, euphoria, depression, sexual desire.

Peter didn't answer. Instead he walked up to Stiles and stopped right in front of him. He let his eyes sweep over the other man's body, just lingering a little longer at the bulge in his pants, mimicking the other's behavior, before he looked him in the eye again. “Turn around.”  
Stiles was confused, but found himself obeying the command with only a little hesitation. “What are you doing?” His voice got a little higher to the end of the question, breath coming out in agitated pants. It was mainly excited curiosity that was transported, what was all the validation Peter needed before grabbing Stiles' hands and pulling them onto his back roughly.  
“What do you think I'm doing?” Rope was circled around his wrists almost carefully. Peter leaned in close until his mouth was only inches away from Stiles' ear. A pull at the rope made the teenager hiss and tense shortly. “If you can't refrain from touching me, I will make sure you can't.” Another pull as Peter began tying him and making sure he wouldn't just get his hands out again, while having enough room left for this to not be hurtful. His fingers pushed in between rope and skin a bit, then he was gone again.  
Stiles just stared at the wall in front of him, not moving at all, until he felt his hands being released and coming to rest above his ass. He might have considered being embarrassed if he had thought of the fact that Peter could easily feel his arousal spike at the words that were uttered and the things that had been done.

Stiles only waited the fraction of a second before testing his ties by moving and twisting his wrist. The rope felt rough and hard against his skin, but it was just a little inconvenience so far. The worst thing was that he, now that he couldn't anymore, really wanted to move his hands badly.  
The main thing he acknowledged to himself, however, was that it was hot. He wouldn't have imagined himself being in this position and he had never even wasted a thought about games like this and now he knew he really should have. This would have made for some pretty nice fantasies. This would make for some pretty nice fantasies. And maybe reruns. So far that wasn't a bad thought to have.

“And now I am supposed to...” Stiles gasped in surprise as his words were cut off by Peter leaning against him and pressing him into the wall with his whole weight. The teenager just managed to turn his head to not actually face the wall before he hit it.  
“Now, you're supposed to not pull at your rope, or you'll just hurt yourself.” Peter's whole body slowly pressed flush against his. Stiles could feel the fabric of his shirt slowly settling onto his back, clinging to his slightly sweaty skin, and more importantly he could feel he other man's cock pressing hard against his long fingers.

Peter grinned, rocked his hip against the other man and bit down on his neck using his human teeth, dragging them over his skin afterwards before pressing his lips down and sucking at it. Biting was one of the things that made Stiles nervous in a bad way. Not because he didn't like it – the few minutes this lasted now he came to believe that he very well liked it very much – but because of the fact that it was a werewolf. There was always relief washing over him when he didn't feel fangs scraping at his skin.  
It was a great feeling, though. The relief, followed by immediate pleasure that burned hot in his system, maybe even hotter as if this moment of shock hadn't been there to begin with.

“You can move your fingers, if you want to.” Peter's voice was quiet, a hint of amusement staining the otherwise sensual hum his words had been. He grinned against Stiles' skin, pressing his hips against him slowly, rolling them and making the younger man gasp and his breath come out unsteady.  
“Oh god...” Stiles drew the words out, licking his lips and not bothering to close his mouth again after that. Peter licked at his neck, his tongue hot and wet against him, before continuing to suck his skin, clearly leaving visible marks all over him. Stiles started moving his fingers timidly, a slight tremor in his motions giving away that he was too bashful to really comply to this offer, while being too willing not to try.

“More.” A mere whisper against his skin, that was almost quiet enough that Stiles asked himself if this word even really had been uttered or was just part of his vivid imagination. Real or not, he tried to obey, moved his fingers with more certainty and less hesitation.  
Stiles wasn't even aware of the fact that, besides a change in his breathing pattern, Peter hadn't given any audible evidence of pleasure so far. At least not until now. The werewolf produced a sound next to his ear, that was half moaning, half growling with pleasure and Stiles heart skipped a beat. Goosebumps ran down his arms, pleasure flooding him just from hearing this and knowing it was him who was responsible for this noise coming into existence.

Peter must have noticed, if the dark chuckle he heard was anything to go by. “You liked that?” The smugness in the other man's voice was hard to miss. The teenager nodded his head, a breathless “Yes.” accompanying the motion.

A second later Peter was gone again, his solid weight suddenly missing. The loss made Stiles realize how hard he had been pressed against the wall. His cheek felt like the wall's pattern had to be engraved on it.  
There was a tug at the rope, sending a short flash of mild pain through his arms and wrists. Stumbling back against Peter's chest he just leaned back and rested his head on the other man's shoulder.  
Broad hands came around him and settled on his chest, before moving down on it, nails scraping over his skin lightly. It was a good feeling to be this enclosed in Peter's embrace. Stiles hummed and sighed. The pleasure he felt caused him to close his eyes and concentrate on just appreciating the touches he got.

His eyes opened again hastily, when he felt Peter's hands unzipping his pants in a swift motion. He couldn't believe the other man was going to keep undressing him without taking anything off of himself – and Stiles wasn't willing to count Peter's mantle in on actual undressing.  
Before he could think about if it was a good idea or not, his mouth had already decided to just go with his first instinct. “Aren't you gonna...”, Stiles breathed out shakily and wiggled his head a little from left to right before continuing,“...undress something, too? Or maybe everything? Joining in on the naked club?”

“You are far from naked. Too far.” Peter's hands stilled after opening Stiles' trousers, only inches away from his cock, what made the younger man realize that he hadn't actually been touched on this particular part of his body at all.  
“You want me to?” Peter smirked, pressing his hands onto his stomach and Stiles against himself through this gesture. “Say please.” He stressed and draw the last word, his voice quiet, but demanding.

Stiles shivered and had to take a moment to reenter the conversation after imagining how it would be to feel Peter's hands on his cock. He wanted it and when he answered he begged not only for what he actually asked for, but for so much more. “Please?”

Peter let go of him, nudging him forward slightly, while urging him to turn around with his hands on Stiles' shoulders. The teenager obliged, his eyes following the movements of Peter's fingers as he started to unbutton his own shirt.  
Once he started he couldn't take his eyes off anymore, all possible thoughts he might have had any other day about potential embarrassment cast aside. Button after button more skin got visible and Stiles wanted to touch it. He wanted to run his fingers over Peter just as much as he wanted to feel his fingers on himself. Maybe even more, just because he was still incapable of doing so. He moved his hands a bit in their cage made of rope and pulled a face at the discomfort this caused.

Peter let his shirt slip from his shoulders by rolling them back and didn't give it so much as a second look after it fell to the ground. It just got to be one more discarded item of clothing.  
“That's not everything.” Stiles heard himself say before he could even think about how bad a thing to say this might be. Peter cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. He didn't even need to say anything, because his face did that part for him. “Really?” it silently asked.  
“But it's a start! I'll take it.” Stiles nodded fast and started shaking his head a little, stopping again as he started feeling ridiculous.  
The werewolf grinned at him. “You really talk too much.” His voice was soft, despite his words. It didn't feel like he meant it at all, what probably was because he didn't. Peter enjoyed it too much to want him to stop. There lay so much potential in Stiles' behavior.

Peter put his hand to the back of Stiles' neck and curled his fingers around firmly, pressing against him hard. Before the other could even get used to the solid weight against his skin it was gone again, pulling at his shoulder and making him stumble forward and past the werewolf.  
“To the table. Go.” Peter didn't touch him again and Stiles just walked over on his own, trying hard not to lose his opened pants and looking over his shoulder precariously while doing so. The other man followed him, what was reassuring even if it didn't come as a surprise.

Once he reached the table Stiles was about to turn around again to face Peter, but the other man's hands were already on the teenager's arms to stop him from doing so. His fingers clenched hard around him, holding him firmly for a moment and making him hiss.  
One of the hands holding Stiles slipped to his back, not far beneath his neck, the other was placed on his hip. Without hesitation Peter pushed him forward and pressed against his upper body, so that Stiles found himself bend over and up close with the table, his cheek pressed to the next solid wooden object.

Stiles actually thought he could hear his own heartbeat in this moment. Or maybe it was just his blood rushing through his veins. The frantic, excited pace his heart had adapted to sure made it run faster through his system.  
Peter smiled down at him, while Stiles tried to glance back without moving his head. “Don't move up.”, he ordered, before taking away both of his hands. His fingers came back into contact with Stiles' skin as they pushed underneath the rim of his shorts and now the teenager was pretty sure his heart had skipped from hammering and trying to jump out of his chest to stopping to beat entirely within a second. Meanwhile anticipation and nervousness were competing which of them would have the honor of killing him.

_____  
Stiles squirmed slightly on the table as he felt his clothes being pulled away in a steady, fluid motion, only shortly hampered by his cock coming free. He stilled as he could feel them pool around his ankles. It was strange, especially considered his current position. He felt utterly exposed and on display – probably because both things were true.

He could hear Peter standing up again, his hands retreating from their completed task of undressing him and then there was nothing anymore for way too long. No touch and no sound. It made Stiles nervous to wait through this minute in which Peter just watched him lying there in front of him and admiring what he saw. He clenched his hands to fist, trying his restraints once more just to have something to do, even if he could feel his wrist going sore from all the fidgeting, and waited as long as he could before raising his voice. “Peter?”

“Yes, Stiles? I'm still here.”  
Stiles was almost sure he could hear Peter smirk. That dangerous underlying tone was back and it made him feel hot and anxious. “Aren't you going to –”  
“Impatient. I like that.” Peter stepped closer again, his pants brushing against the skin of Stiles' legs. As little as it was, Stiles sighed at the contact.

Peter's hand landed on the middle of the teenager's back, his fingers spread wide and putting firm pressure against him. Stiles huffed out air, his heart back to hammering in his chest. The amount of arousal he felt was almost unbearable at this point. He had never wanted to be touched so badly and what he got right now just wasn't enough. He was impatient, just as much as he was nervous about what was to come, in a way people got nervous when doing things they never had done before.

Stiles was just starting a train of thoughts, lamenting to himself about the fact that this was really happening and getting serious, because he was naked and about to have sex – on a table – as he felt Peter's weight shift and distract him.  
He couldn't see what was happening – what only made the anxiety bigger and the situation more arousing – but he could feel what he was doing the next second. Peter's tongue landed on his back, just above his tied up hands and he licked up his spine slowly while taking away his hand. Stiles moaned and squirmed feeling the hot pressure replaced by cold air fast.  
“Oh god... please... more...” Stiles voice was thin and broken by pants and sighs.

“Delightful.” Peter was scavenging through the pockets of his mantle, that lay on the table behind Stiles. The teenager turned his head, but still was unable to see what what exactly had been taken out of it.  
He heard a soft sound as Peter opened the bottle of lube he had obtained. Stiles tried to turn a little and arch up from the table to see what was going on.

“I told you not to move.” The dominating nature of his words wasn't hampered by the fact that Peter was half naked, hard in his pants for Stiles to see, or just coating some of the fingers of his right hand with lube. The teenager thought that it probably didn't matter what Peter was doing or how he was dressed, he just had this way of maintaining control. It was outright sexy. At least for him it really was.

Stiles scrambled back and lay down flat on the table quickly. There was pressure against his right leg, followed by a kick against it that made him stagger, even though he theoretically couldn't fall.  
Peter waited another moment for Stiles to grasp the fact that he didn't just kick him for the pure pleasure of kicking him, but it didn't happen. “Your legs. Put them apart some more.” The bottle Peter had held in his hand made another soft sound as it fell onto his mantle.

Stiles did as he was told, feeling even more on display and completely unguarded, but strangely comfortable with the situation at the same time. What bugged him the most was probably that silent voice that got even more silent the longer this lasted, but still was asking him unwaveringly if it really was okay to like this.

One of Peter's hand circled around the rope on his wrists slowly, fingers brushing his skin softly, while the other brushed his ass. There was a firm, cold and wet pressure between his cheeks and against his hole as Peter pushed a finger against it lightly.  
Stiles stopped breathing and his body tensed. He wasn't sure how he was expecting this to be. Good, hopefully. New and strange, maybe. Exciting, definitely.  
What he definitely wasn't expecting was that the werewolf would tug at the rope around his wrists. Unfortunately he did. Stiles hissed through gritted teeth, his upper body arching up from the table a bit. It didn't really hurt that much, but it definitely had him surprised and distracted. This moment of distraction was when he felt Peter's finger push in harshly and after that slide further into him slowly.

The hand on the rope was gone, pushing against his back instead and Stiles lay down onto the table again. “Stiles. Breath.” Peter's voice was harsh, tainted from a flash of mild worry at the other man's behavior.  
Stiles took a deep, ragged breath in reply. “Holy shit...”  
It was a strange feeling. Not really as good as he had thought it might be and he sure hadn't thought it might even be uncomfortable. Peter started to move his finger, slow at first, but getting faster quickly. The longer it took the better it got, though. It didn't take long and Stiles was squirming, panting and moaning beneath Peter's hand, getting louder by the second, and Peter just let him, enjoying every sound he could pull out of him.

Stiles had just gotten used to the feeling, being comfortable with it and enjoying himself as Peter pulled out nearly completely and added a second finger before pushing back in deep. Stiles gasped and squirmed even more than before, but this time around it took even less to get used to it.

He was on edge, all this being too much sensation, too much pleasure and arousal and he had the feeling he couldn't take the way Peter's fingers moved and twisted inside him, drawing out moans and sighs and incoherent words that got constantly louder, much longer. Peter felt it, too. The little shift in the tension of Stiles' body, the slight change of his scent and in his breathing. 

Stiles could feel Peter shift and his face getting near to his back. He heard him sniffling him, triggering a shiver and goosebumps. Just thinking about what the other might be scenting on him was exciting and interesting, as well as irritating – all at once. Peter took the hand that had rested rigid on his back, bracing himself with it on the table by placing it next to Stiles' head instead. He leaned in close until his mouth was next to his ear. Stiles could feel his body pressing against his side lightly, while his fingers were still moving inside him.

“Stiles, if you come now, you will have to come again.” Peter's breath was hot against the shell of his ear, his last words stressed and seemingly underlined by the timed movements of his fingers. He was still moving them, twisting them now and pushing back in hard, using just the right angle. And that was it. He just couldn't hold back any longer.  
Stiles came shaking and with a cry of pleasure on his lips that tore through the air and sure wasn't dampened much by the walls surrounding them. “Oh my god... oh god... Peter...” Stiles gasped for air, groaning while his orgasm lasted and Peter didn't still until he was sure that it was over completely.  
The werewolf smirked and leaned in even more to place a kiss on Stiles' neck before pushing himself off the table. His fingers slid out and Stiles' probably would have mourned this event, if he not had been still shaking lightly, feeling absolutely blissful. The thought that his cock didn't even get touched so far shortly crossed his mind, but he decided that he didn't care. 

Peter shifted behind him again and the rustling of clothes could be heard as he got rid of his own pants.  
“You want to look? Look.” Peter's voice got through the mild haze that currently was Stiles' brain and he shifted on the table to glance over at him. Peter had taken the lube back and was busy coating himself with it in lazy, long strokes. Stiles swallowed hard, his mind busy with the equation how much bigger Peter was compared to two of his fingers.

He didn't have an answer to that question, but he was sure he was about to find out anyway. Stiles got excited again, the words from before coming back to his mind and slowly sinking in. He didn't think that he was physically capable of coming again during this. It just couldn't be. “Peter, about that little statement from before...”

Peter chuckled low and cocked his head. “Yes, Stiles?”

“I don't think that is...”, Stiles began talking but couldn't finish as he felt a cold, slick hand wrap around his not yet flaccid dick. He huffed and gasped and buckled up from the table, pulling at his restraints and trying to get away from the touch in vain. Peter was right behind him, his dick pressing against him as he pressed back. Peter groaned softly, putting his hand to Stiles' hip, not letting go of him again.  
“I don't think that is a great idea, right now... oh god...” It wasn't outright bad. Stiles just felt too sensitive to be touched and it was uncomfortable.

“I told you before. And I think you will change your mind about that.”, Peter still sounded calm and collected, but not even he could hide the arousal thick beneath his words or the longing look in his eyes, “You just have to trust me.”  
Stiles did really not know why, but he did trust him. At least enough for this. He nodded slowly, licking his lips and lying back down on the table.

Peter didn't move his hand again yet, just kept it closed around him. The next thing Stiles could feel was the other man's cock pressing lightly against his hole. He moved his head, pressed his forehead to the table and closed his eyes, panting against the wood. Peter moved in slow, but it still caused a burning sensation that was worse than with his fingers before.  
Once pushed in completely Peter stilled for a moment before starting to move, giving Stiles time to get used to the feeling. Rather similar to before he started slow, going faster quick, starting to move his hand in time with his thrusts.  
All discomfort didn't last long. Stiles was hard again, panting, moaning and calling god soon enough, this time accompanied by the panting breath of the alpha who was constantly pushing in harder and deeper, pressing him against the table hard in rhythm with his movements. Stiles had to take his forehead off the wood and lay his head back onto the side. It felt great – way better than anything they had done before.

Stiles mind always raced, his inability to focus one of his greatest problems. He was rather caught up in this activity, but still his mind managed to sidetrack for a moment and remember a fact that he had been completely oblivious to up until now.  
“Peter...” The werewolf couldn't get enough of how his name sounded moaned like that. “Can... can... Derek. Can he hear us?”

Peter smirked, having the decency to finally sound out of breath when he answered. “Yes. Yes, he can definitely hear you.” The werewolf pushed in hard, making the man beneath him cry out in pleasure. “Who knows what he does, hearing you like this?” Another hard thrust followed, but this time Stiles bit his lip, only letting a muffled huff escape. “Loud, full of pleasure, shameless. Screaming my name...”

“I didn't...”

“Do it now.” Peter's voice was faint and still the demand to be obeyed was clear in it. “Scream my name. Let him hear.”

Stiles took a deep breath, pondering with himself, finding it difficult to obey immediately. The command itself sent a shiver down his spine. It was arousing that he urged him to let someone else hear this and at the same time the thought of someone else hearing him was a little disturbing. On the other hand he believed Peter when he told him that he already had been heard.

“I want him to know how much you enjoy me.” Peter had bent down, his voice nearer than before and the angle of his thrusts slightly different now.  
And then Stiles came again, a hot mess staining the wooden floor beneath the table. He shuddered and groaned, Peter's name on his lips, definitely louder than any noise he had made before. His fingers clenched in on themselves, in the vain effort to hold onto something, his wrists pulling against the rope, his breath hitching in his throat, while Peter was still moving inside him, every hard thrust sending a new, slightly weaker jolt of pleasure through his system, until he felt him come as well.  
Peter's hips stuttered for a moment, his breath hitching slightly, going over into a groan while he bent over Stiles, bracing himself with an arm on the table. A few more erratic movements and Peter stopped, sagging slightly further down onto the body beneath him.

After that the room was filled with pants and huffs, while they both tried to calm down. It was no surprise to Peter that it was Stiles who was the first to talk again. “Don't get me wrong, because this was awesome. More than awesome. It was...”, Stiles gaped while obviously thinking, “... Okay, I don't have a better word than awesome, but if I had, I would use it now. So it was this good. But I'm sure I need to be home soon.”  
Peter chuckled, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss onto the sweaty skin on Stiles' back. “Before someone misses you?”  
“Yes. That.” Stiles took in a deep breath, blissful smile still in place. “And maybe a shower or two.”


End file.
